


FWB stands for: feelings witll burn (you)

by VenezuelanWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Sam Winchester Knows, but happy enough ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 05:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenezuelanWriter/pseuds/VenezuelanWriter
Summary: Dean and Cas have something going on, but Dean makes sure terms and conditions are clear: No strings attached.





	FWB stands for: feelings witll burn (you)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this one-shot I couldn't get out of my mind for a few weeks until I finally wrote it.
> 
> Beta'd by [melitta4ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever). Thanks a lot again!! ♥

Dean didn’t like to admit it, but his and Cas’ thing was pretty much a comfort _thing_. There was trust, there was stress relief, there was caring… everything he could ask for in a healthy friends-with-benefits relationship.

It’d started mostly out of boredom and plain desire, in a nasty motel room in Nebraska.

It was a long hunt and they were all worn out. One week of tracking down a pack of werewolves did that to people.

Sam was going to be out for 25 minutes —even half an hour to get all his hippie stuff. Meaning, Dean and Cas were left alone between ugly flowery wallpaper, twin-sized squeaking beds, and a really-not-memorable yet familiar smell for both of them.

Any other day, Dean’s plans would’ve been completely different than staying in —there, out of all places— since it was 5 in the afternoon, but he would make the most of his time alone with Cas.

See, Dean wasn’t an idiot. At least, not regarding sexual body language and flirting: Cas was into him and lately it’d been showing more than ever. Why keep him suffering, when Dean would love to help himself with some angel cake?

With that in mind, he sat next to Cas on the edge of the bed.

Cas’ shoulders were slouched and he didn’t move until Dean cleared his throat. Cas’ eyes met his, and he looked even more tired than Dean had imagined.

Their stares were so loud Dean could see floating lines of everything they were saying: _I’m tired too_ , _I wanna get home yesterday_ , and then _I could use some company. You?_

It felt like the whole moment would be lost, though, if they actually verbalized their thoughts.

So Dean didn’t.

He held Cas' shoulder, then slowly traced down his arm under Cas' watchful eyes. Dean returned the hand back to the shoulder, then slid it behind his neck.

“Did I read this wrong? Because if I did, then-” he lifted his hand off Cas, almost in a defensive gesture.

Cas’ chest moved up and down slowly underneath Dean’s hand. It was a calming motion, like sharing a breath of determination and courage.

His eyes found Dean’s again, but this time their blue was darker. He held up his hand and put Dean’s against his chest again.

“You didn’t.”

Dean moved his fingertips to Cas tie, slid his hand past his belly, over his thigh. Cas didn’t move. Dean was impressed by how well he was keeping it together.

He stopped the tracing, opening his palm wide on Cas’ thigh, next to his crotch. He squeezed the soft muscle and let his thumb graze slightly near Cas’ groin.

Even underneath the slacks, he felt Cas burning hot.

“Well, then,” Dean said, climbing on top of Cas, straddling him.

He kissed Cas’ temple, then his cheek, then his jaw. Cas’ breaths tickled Dean’s ear, making it warm. Dean started loosening the knot of Cas’ tie, while Cas’ hands clutched his waist. Once the knot was loose, Dean continued to kiss his neck while unbuttoning his shirt.

“Dean.”

It was soft. Not a warning, not a demand, not a complaint. It didn’t sound like a request or plea, either.

Dean left Cas’ neck. He looked into his friends’ eyes.

“Yeah, man?”

But Cas, apparently, didn't have anything to say.

Dean gently pushed Cas down the bed. He tucked his shirt out of his slacks.

“If you think we should stop,” Dean said, coaxing him out of his trench coat and jacket too, “you can tell me.”

Cas shook his head.

“Kiss me,” he asked, instead, with low voice, almost as if he was embarrassed.

A fire lit up inside Dean. He’d heard a lot of dirty lines before, but for some reason, it was one hell of a turn on to be asked for such an intimate gesture.

He complied; leaning forward again and landing his lips on Cas as if he were the most delicate thing in the world.

All the sensual touches and undressing didn’t compare to how kissing Cas felt. It turned wild and desperate, and Cas kissed him like that was his only mission in the world; like if that was the one thing doing it for him.

In fact, only after they’d kissed was that Dean felt a familiar pressure increasing against his thigh.

Cas’ hands roamed Dean’s back over his shirt. Dean, wanting to have Cas’ skin on his, separated for a moment and pulled the shirt over his head in a practiced motion.

Catching Cas' awe-filled eyes on him, Dean smirked before returning to suck hickeys on Cas’ throat and behind his ear.

Blindly, Dean undid Cas’ belt and jeans.

“I’d like to jack you off now, Cas,” Dean breathed into his ear. “You okay with that?”

“Very.”

“Do you do that a lot?” He asked, out of his kinky mind that liked to imagine Cas didn’t have sexual pleasure as often as he did himself.

“Sometimes,” Cas said, voice unwavering.

Confidence looked, _felt_ great on Cas.

Dean’s hand slipped past Cas’ boxers and tugged at his dick.

Cas groaned in his throat, so manly and so sexy that Dean didn’t know what to think but wondering why they’d taken so long to get there.

Dean studied the way his hand moved on Cas' skin and how Cas' body reacted to it. He was glad to see Cas didn’t take long before starting dripping, so he slowed down, a little too excited about stretching the moment.

Cas pushed Dean’s shoulder back. He was frowning.

“Why did you stop?”

“Would you like to ask for it?” Dean whispered.

The answer came matter-of-factly.

“No.”

Dean was disappointed, but he would live.

“Ok, then, no dirty talking for you, apparently.”

He restarted pumping his hand, trying to leave the minor awkwardness behind them.

“Dean,” Cas blurted out. “Can you kiss me again?”

Yes, Dean could do that. Not like it was bad. It was quite awesome, actually.

The kiss soon became sloppy on Cas’ end. He was trembling and finally melting against Dean’s hands.

His breath was heavy as Dean lingered above him, too self-aware of the obvious hard-on in his jeans.

“I’ll help with that,” Cas said, unbuttoning Dean’s pants.

Cas’ mouth didn’t hang open or anything that exaggerated, but Dean could see the praise in Cas’ eyes. Cas watched him exactly like Dean would stare at a burger after three days with no food. Cas was, very obviously, admiring his dick.

He wrapped a hand around the head, and the other he rested it on Dean’s hip.

“What if you…” Cas trailed off, pushing Dean’s hip down, hinting to him to move.

Dean considered it, quite surprised. Who would’ve thought it; Cas taking initiative in bed?

“Very nice plan, Cas,” he teased.

Dean fucked Cas’ fist, while caressing his throat with his thumb. It was a little rough, just sweat and precum easing the way, but it was enough. More than enough. After he set a quick pace, it was over soon: electricity running down his spine, body tensing.

He stood back and watched the mess, slightly grossed out.

“Be right back,” he murmured.

He went for toilet paper in the bathroom, wishing they had wet wipes. He cleaned his own stomach and then handed Cas some of the paper that was still clean.

Cas cleaned himself while Dean did his pants and put his shirt back on, despite being sweaty and preferring a shower at the moment.

“You really should get dressed before Sammy gets back,” Dean said, grabbing his jacket. “I’m gonna go for a beer.”

“Sure,” Cas said, effortless. Casual.

Not as much as Dean, but casual.

Dean closed the door behind him. He’d scored a very good one there.

 ~

They didn’t mention it, even when they were alone. Not until four days later, when Castiel was the one needing comfort.

He knocked on Dean’s bedroom door, opening it after he heard a soft “Come in.”

Dean was on his bed, leaning against the headboard and cleaning his gun. He was wearing sweatpants and a cotton shirt. Without the usual numerous layers, it was almost as seeing him naked.

“Hi. I, um, wanted to talk about the other day.” Castiel was self-aware of every part in his body. The way his hands hung on his sides, how he was too rigid on his feet. “In Nebraska.”

“It was great, Cas,” Dean said. He sounded honest. He _was_ being honest, Castiel could tell. “But for the sake of this relationship, I don’t think we should do it again.”

That one he didn’t see it coming.

“Why?”

“Because it can fuck us up. It’s not easy to maintain a friends with benefits relationship. Hell, I don’t think there even is a right way.”

Castiel, with light footsteps, stepped next to Dean’s bed, sitting on the edge. Dean put away the gun in the nightstand drawer.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what we did since then.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed in the slightest way. Castiel was glad to see the effect he had on someone as gorgeous and experienced as Dean.

Castiel took off his trench coat and put it on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed. Dean’s eyes traced the action, without missing a bit of it.

“Please, Dean, I want you.”

He removed his jacket, then the tie. When he was done, he tried to figure out the look on Dean’s face. It was guarded. Lower, though… _there_ was something.

“I believe you want me, as well,” he stated, sure.

Dean gulped. Castiel took off his shoes and undid his belt.

“Woah, Cas, if we do this again, we may establish some terms,” Dean moved his legs to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. “Like, ground rules.”

Castiel slid his pants to his ankles, stepping out of them.

“Can we discuss them afterward?” He sat next to Dean and put a hand on his leg, just like Dean had started things the first time. “I promise I won’t avoid it. It’s just —I can hardly think right now.”

Dean passed his own hand over the forming tent on his sweats.

“Dammit, Cas,” he said, before finally leaning back, taking Castiel with him. “Think you can give me head? Kinda been fantasizing about that,” Dean whispered, biting down Cas’ earlobe.

“Only if you return the favor.”

 ~

It was addictive. The more times he was with Dean and the more different things they tried, the more Castiel realized he couldn’t get enough of Dean.

And for the sake of having it again, he’d accept anything.

Even Dean’s hurtful and mortifying suggestion of their thing not being even exclusive.

“You mean we get to see other people?” he asked, getting dressed again to leave Dean’s bedroom.

“If we agree to it and we’re both aware of it, there’s no harm,” Dean said, getting his underwear back in place. “And, just to clarify, I should make crystal clear that by seeing other people I mean doing this kinda thing with other people.”

The more Dean explained it, the worse it sounded.

“You _do_ realize that only benefits you, right?”

“Not necessarily,” shrugged Dean.

Like Castiel could get a ‘hookup’.

“Alright, Dean.”

He was fully dressed, frustrated, and ready to leave.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it, Cas?” Dean asked from his bed, right before Castiel opened the door.

“I’ll assimilate it.”

Castiel knew he didn’t enjoy things just because of the physical part, but for the fact that it was Dean that he got to share that with. He would manage, though, because he enjoyed their time together too much and would have to be insane to quit it.

 ~

It happened frequently, in the beginning —once every two days on average, to be exact. They’d meet, ‘blow off some steam’, as Dean put it, and Castiel would leave. He was more than okay with it. After all, he knew, he could _feel_ , that Dean hadn’t been with anyone else since their ‘thing’ started. It was very reassuring.

He didn’t know why, but then it happened less and less often: once every four days, once a week, then once every two weeks.

None of them would seek the other’s company, or Sam would be ‘always around’.

Maybe saving the world was draining them too hard. Maybe Dean didn’t want him as much, or missed his body as much.

Castiel wasn’t going to push, because he knew better. He knew waiting patiently was the smarter thing to do. He’d rather have Dean coming to him whenever he needed him, over pressure them and breaking the whole deal off.

Castiel thought he had it under control.

He did, in fact, until he felt betrayed.

He was in the bunker’s archive with Dean, pinning him against the wall as they made out. Then there was some finger sucking, and belts unbuckling, and Castiel’s index finger was in Dean in no time —maybe Dean did miss him, after all.

But he felt something. A powerful hunch, a feeling radiating Dean’s soul, a tiny whisper in his mind almost if Dean was projecting from thinking too loud. And Castiel didn’t like what he was sensing.

“Dean, can I ask you a question?”

“Right now, Cas?”

“It’s an easy one.”

It wasn’t something Dean would’ve wanted to answer, but it wasn’t a complicated question, either.

Castiel let his finger out of Dean.

Dean sighed.

“Shoot.”

“But you have to answer with the truth.”

Dean pursed his lips together, then answered.

“Just ask.”

“When was the last time you let someone else do this to you?”

Dean frowned, clearly taken aback.

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Answer, Dean.”

“Not long ago.”

“That’s not a precise answer.”

“I don’t have to answer, Cas. We never agreed on that. Besides,” he sighed again, louder this time, “it wasn’t exactly pretty.”

Castiel didn’t want to assume that Dean actually meant—

“What do you mean?”

“It means, Cas. I got hurt. Like physically hurt.”

Cas could've ignored the rage in his gut and had angry sex with Dean, been rough, showed him how good things could feel without actually hurting, but he couldn’t. He was physically unable to do so as Dean’s words made him lose his boner.

“You were so unsatisfied you had to go to a bar for some stranger to fuck you?” The swearing felt foreign in his tongue, but his anger could only meet his words if they were that profane. “And you couldn’t even pick one that didn’t fuck you wrong?” His voice was getting louder, high-pitched. “Dammit, Dean-”

The lights in the room flickered, and the whole bunker shook around them.

“Cool it, Cas, Sam’s gonna come to check on us-”

“So what? I don’t care anymore.”

He stormed out of the archive, feeling like a hurricane. Of emotions, of torments, of pain and of unjustified anger.

He should’ve known that was going to happen.

 ~

Sam was in the library when the lights wavered and the walls, the floor, and ceiling trembled in the bunker.

He was already looking for the closest gun, ready to face anyone that could’ve broken in, when Cas walked out of the longest hall in the bunker.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Sam asked, confused and suddenly even more distressed than before.

Cas didn’t answer. Sam followed him to the kitchen and waited.

Cas rummaged in the liquor shelf until he found something strong enough, given by the scotch bottle he picked, and took a long sip of it.

He put the bottle down again, shook his head and looked Sam in the eyes. He was wearing the most furious, maddened expression Sam had ever seen him.

“Ask Dean.”

And then he vanished.

 ~

Dean hit the wall he was just leaning into, being pinned against.

First, no one left him that high and dry since ages ago. Second: not that it mattered, though, as all the drama helped him get rid of his hard-on and all that he cared about by then was to stop Cas from making a scene in front of Sam.

Like if things needed to get worse, he made it out of the archive too late —or maybe, he’d taken too long to respond.

In the war room, Sam was sitting like a mom that waited for her teenage daughter after curfew. Cas wasn’t around.

“Care to explain?” Sam asked.

“It’s between Cas and me, alright?” he snapped, mortified.

How much did Sam know?

“Whatever this is —you know he loves you, don’t you?”

“What?!” Now Sam was out of place, too. Amazing. “You think you know what this is?”

“I don’t, Dean, okay? I certainly don’t. But something is definitely going on. And I’m sorry for worrying, but whatever this is, it deserved that lights flickered and shit like the first time he stepped a foot on Earth.”

Dean took a deep breath. This is totally not like he’d imagined he’d tell Sam. He didn’t even plan on doing it. Worst case scenario, one day Sam would walk on them and regret it for the rest of his days.

“For God’s sake, Sam,” Dean whimpered. He sat next to him at the map table. “It’s not like _that_. We’re just fooling around.”

Sam gave him one of this _You can’t be actually serious_ looks.

“You can’t possibly not know he would die for you.”

“Cas would die for you, too. In fact, the guy would die for a puppy if he owned it for a day! Fuck, maybe even less.”

Sam stared at him. Then he looked away, put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and stood up. Like he’d had enough already —not that Dean would blame him. Drama was and would always be exhausting.

“I hope you two figure it out, man.”

 ~

Dean waited. Sooner or later, Cas would return to the bunker. To talk, or to ask for help on a hunt, or to offer help on a hunt, but he'd come. And Dean would be willing to confront him then.

In the cave, he watched cartoons while eating popcorn. He wasn’t actively waiting for Cas, he was just passing time and keeping his mind busy to avoid thinking about the mess everything was at the moment.

He wasn’t ready to talk to Cas just yet. But then again, lately things didn’t turn out like he wanted them to, right?

Cas just walked in, no knocking, no nothing. He just stepped in and pretty much stood in front of the TV. He had this annoyed but remorseful face: jaw tensed, eyes soft.

“I’m sorry I stormed out like that,” he said. Using his grace, surely, he turned off the TV behind him. “I just…” his eyes roamed the floor. “I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else doing that to you and hurting you, Dean.”

Dean let the words click. He needed to form an opinion before he said anything. He stood up, the almost empty bowl of popcorns forgotten on the armchair.

He didn’t have an opinion. He had rage.

“So you just left me? Like that, Cas. I felt humiliated! Besides-”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Besides,” he continued, “you were okay with it! With me still having other hookups.”

“I tried to be okay with it,” Cas said. His jaw finally relaxed. He sighed and shrugged. He looked unarmed. “I know I said I was, and that’s on me; my mistake. I should’ve known I couldn't handle it. I just wanted you so much I was willing to accept anything and —well. We definitely can’t keep this thing going. Not like that.”

Dean nodded. He almost barked out a _no shit_ , but he realized it probably wouldn’t be of much help.

“Can I ask why you were so furious, Cas? Because Sam suggested something and I-I really don’t believe him.”

“What did he say?”

Dean crossed his arms.

“I asked first.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I… Listen, I don’t like the idea of people using you. They don’t know what you’re really worth.”

If that was the reason, then-

“Newsflash: I’m using them too, Cas. So what? It happens.”

Cas raised his eyebrows.

“Are you using me, too?”

“Cas, listen, this is different. _We’re_ different. It’s not like that.”

Because it wasn’t. Strangers? Strangers Dean didn’t care about. Cas, on the other hand, he cared for him almost as much as he cared for Sam.

Cas didn’t seem to get the memo, though. His eyes filled with this disappointment and pain —fuck, it hurt to get that look from him.

“For you, I think it is. Was, in fact. Sexual release, no commitments, no need to deal with people’s opinions on you being attracted to men.”

Dean this time couldn’t help the scoff with sharp sarcasm he cracked.

“That’s beyond the topic.”

Cas remained serious and thoughtful.

“I don’t think so. Unless you tell me something that proves otherwise. You were always using me. And I was always using you, despite my emotional attachment.”

 _Emotional attachment_. As in what Sam had been talking about?

“I love you, Dean,” Cas finished. It was a powerful sentence, said with conviction and coated in sorrow. “But you hurt me so much.”

And those words were the ones that did it. They crumbled down all the walls Dean spent so many years building. They hit him in the guts like he’d never imagined such simple words could do it.

He felt his mouth going dry when he tried to speak. His heart started beating even faster than before. It was louder, pounding in his ears too. Even some stupid tears were threatening to come out of his eyes.

“I care about you,” he finally said. Realizing he’d been silent for too long, it was probably a miracle Cas hadn’t left the room by now. “I just-I can’t deal with it. I’m not good with feelings. And I don’t wanna hurt you. If all of this, skin and sex, was something we both wanted, I was willing to have that, at least.” He wet his lips again and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“My feelings! The way I only kissed you when you asked, because I knew it would do something for me. The fact that I never liked doing it in positions where our eyes met. I was too focused on making it a sex thing, Cas. That’s why I _had_ to see other people.” He let out a loud breath, too frustrated to care about adding, “Even if it didn’t end nicely.”

Cas’ expression was blank. He was just standing there, staring at Dean. Then he gave him this understanding look, like he knew what Dean was talking about, like maybe he didn’t blame him for being a disaster of human being.

“You’re an asshole,” Cas stated solemnly. “Did you know that?”

He approached Dean slowly and Dean didn’t move. If he was waiting for Dean to reject him, he was going to be even more disappointed on him. Dean uncrossed his arms and wrapped them around Cas, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Can you forgive me for being an asshole?” He whispered.

Even to his own ears, he sounded vulnerable.

“Yes. Can you forgive me for complicating things?”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Cas.” Dean pulled back, noticing how relaxed he felt after the embrace. “Are we good?”

Cas cupped his cheek. It was so gentle, so light.

“We’re good.”

Dean wasn’t completely sure of what _good_ meant at that point, but he squeezed Cas’ hand and it didn’t feel wrong. In his book, that was a win.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave kudos and comment on what was your favorite part, your favorite line, or even you're least favorite part!! (literally anything, comments in general feed my soul)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ marian-elisa](http://marian-elisa.tumblr.com/).


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